


Rin & Haru & Makoto’s Excellent European Adventure

by maybeillride



Category: Free!
Genre: Age Difference, And ending his, And has his hands full ;), And starting his career, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Future Fic, Gen, Gift Fic, Happy birthday dear!!, Haru's 30, M/M, Mako's 38, Rin is 22, Road Trips, Shameless misappropriation of Harurinalia imagery, Where Rin and Haru are swimming pro on Coach Tachibana's team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-06 00:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4201176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeillride/pseuds/maybeillride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both men look at Rin in amusement – like he’s a puppy demanding attention – before turning to each other, Haru scrubbing his head dry with his towel. “Rock Paper Scissors?” Makoto suggests.</p><p>“Loser gets to sleep with CuddleMuffin here?” Haru agrees.</p><p>“Hey! I’m right here, you know. I have feelings,” Rin protests, bouncing experimentally on the bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rin & Haru & Makoto’s Excellent European Adventure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daxii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daxii/gifts).



“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have the car available,” the Hertz desk clerk at the Paris airport tells Makoto in careful English, her professional expression totally not jibing with the fact _she was completely wrecking their vacation._

Rin shifts behind their coach where he’s frozen, crestfallen, at the counter. He knows Makoto’s bulky size is just a front – he may _look_ imposing, but he’s a teddy-bear conflict-avoider, and therefore not the best choice of the three of them to throw a fit to get their way.

That honor, bizarrely enough, probably falls to Haru, whose “I don’t give a fuck” willingness to say what’s needed at times like this is surprisingly handy, but his teammate is at the other end of the rental counter, gazing dispassionately at the rack of tour brochures. Probably trying to find one about Seine River cruises. Knowing there’s no point trying to draft him into a fight he isn’t motivated for, Rin prepares to dive in on Makoto’s behalf and single-handedly save their Excellent Post-Championship Adventure before it even starts.

But thankfully there’s no need as the clerk continues, “…and we’re very sorry for the error. It appears you had an economy car booked; we would like to offer you what we have available for the same price.”

So that’s how Makoto, Haru and Rin find themselves in the Hertz garage staring stupidly at the Mercedes sedan parked in spot #33.

Rin drops his duffle in sheer surprise. Haru squints next to him and Makoto’s crosschecking the number on the keyfob to the painting on the asphalt over and over like the fourth time will uncover his mistake.

“Wooow! Nice one, Makoto!” Rin grins fiercely. “Mercedes! Now we can, like, have our own car commercial moment cruising the French Riviera!” He gets an arm around Haru and mimes hanging the other one off a steering wheel in front of them, leaning them back like they’re a couple in a low-rider. He throws in a little _oom-cha-oom-cha_ techno beatbox to complete the scenario.

Haru just stares at him coolly in that … special way only Haru can. “You wouldn’t be driving like that on the hairpin turns we’re gonna be doing.”

“Rin’s not gonna be driving at all,” Makoto reminds them like he’s so committed to this whole being-an-adult-thing he can’t help but point out, no, Rin is _not_ one. Not really, anyway. When they’re competing, Makoto never cares how competent and independent Rin is – job (in a factory, but still), his own apartment. To these guys, he’ll always be the “kid” who needs constant minding. Even at the perfectly-respectable age of 22.

“I’m not driving either, Makoto,” Haru tells their coach, wriggling out of Rin’s hold and taking the key from Makoto to open the trunk. He starts loading their bags, but Makoto only lets him get one bag in before he’s pulling the second right out of Haru’s hands to do himself.

“I figured you’d _say_ that, Haru. You’re gonna _feel_ different about driving when we get on the open road and you see how fun it is. Going fast. In _this_ car.” He smirks over his shoulder at Rin as he goes back for the last bag; Rin returns the smirk and does his very best to bury his disappointment. _He_ isn’t 30 like Haru or 38 like Makoto and able to do exactly that, sit behind the wheel of a Mercedes as they fly down the road together. To see how that feels. And even more, to get to help out by taking a turn driving the rental car when both of the older guys are tired. To be a full-fledged member of this expedition.

Makoto turns back to Haru to discover his typically-gentle teasing has no audience; Haru’s already sitting in the car. Makoto sighs and Rin’s suddenly struck with inspiration.

“Can I be the navigator?”

Makoto looks back at him with genuine gratefulness on his face. “…actually, that’d be great. I don’t think you guys want me doing it unless we wanna end up in Greenland.” He pauses. “I don’t think Haru wants to.”

Rin snorts. “Eh. He can read erotic poetry to us to pass the time.”

Makoto looks at him with a blank expression. “Um … yeah. No.”

*

“…God. This part of France is seriously _boring._ Hey, did the theory that the Earth is flat start here?” Makoto glances over at Rin’s bitchfest, giving him a little smirk like he’s egging him on. “Cause this? This is _flat._ I don’t think I’ve ever seen such flat in my life.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Makoto sighs. He happily accepts the chunk of Kinder Surprise chocolate egg Rin’s holding out for him. Rin bought a carton of the things when they stopped at a petrol station for a bathroom break; they were selling them by the dozen like real eggs, and it was so cute he had to have them even though he doesn’t even like chocolate. It’s a good thing Makoto’s glad to oblige him. Rin’s just after the little toys inside, anyway.

“Mmm. Well, the pictures you sent us of this place were amazing. I’m looking forward to, you know, some actual _scenery._ ” He tilts his plush seat back a little further and stretches his whole body taut, from the top of his head to his legs in maroon skinny-jeans crossed out the window to his pointed bare feet. He’s making a little game of seeing how wind-resistant he can get, until it hardly seems like he’s disturbing space at all. “Mountains. Flowers. The Mediterranean sparkling in the sunlight.” He sweeps his hands out grandly.

“If we get in an accident, you do know your legs are getting ripped off, right,” Haru pipes up behind them, where he’s been quietly munching wasabi peas.

Rin takes the bait without thinking. “Hey, I can still live a full and active life without legs! People do!” Makoto gives him that smirk again and reaches into Rin’s lap for another chunk of chocolate. Haru just snorts and the weirdly cute sound of him snacking starts back up.

“…screw you guys. _I’m_ gonna be the one laughing when I get gold in the Special Olympics. For freestyle. Take _that,_ Nanase.” He scowls fiercely into the rearview but Haru isn’t even looking.

“You’re terrible, Rin. The worst,” Makoto says sadly, but his poker face is shit as always, and those green eyes are crinkling at him in the way that’s _so_ Makoto.

“Yeah. But you love me anyway.”

“Debatable.” Haru again. So apparently the key to roping him into the conversation is giving Haru opportunities to rip on him. Interesting.

“We weren’t TALKING to you, FishSticks. Mind your own business.”

“Make me.”

“Do I have to pull this car over?” Makoto puts on an “angry dad” face and for the briefest of moments, Rin’s legitimately scared.

“That’d be a good idea, Makoto. You don’t wanna get tired,” Haru says genuinely, and Rin wonders how he always manages to do this, to work the “concern” angle. For Makoto only, though; the only time Haru shows him real concern is the pool, when Rin gets bent out of shape over his times in practice and Haru tells him it’s okay, that it doesn’t matter. _Easy for you to say, Haru,_ shoots through his mind as he gasps for air on the wall, Haru floating serenely next to him. _Your career’s over. Mine’s just starting. I sorta have to care about stuff like that._

Then Haru’s leaning between their seats, putting his bag of peas between them to share, and Rin can’t help smiling as he pulls out a handful. They all eat for a while in a silence that’s surprisingly comfortable.

“…you guys ever been to Paris?” Rin finally asks. He’s surprised when Haru answers.

“Yeah. In 2015.”

Haru falls silent again. Rin looks from Makoto’s profile behind the wheel to Haru tucked in the rearview but apparently nothing more is forthcoming. He sighs dramatically.

“Yeah, _so,_ what for? Gay wedding at EuroDisney?”

That gets another smirk struggling through Makoto’s practiced “why you little shit” face but Haru again takes the answer, and Rin turns all his attention to the quiet voice behind him.

“It was the World Cup. Makoto got a special sanction for our club to go, said it would give us good perspective about what kind of competition was outside Japan.” There’s a pause and Rin glances back up to see Haru gazing out the window, face solemn. “I got perspective, alright.”

“You were only 19, Haru! It was a huge pool to throw you in after Iwatobi,” Makoto interrupts hotly. Rin can’t help noticing the way his gaze stays pinned on the unspooling highway while his big hands tighten on the wheel. “It was the wrong call. _You_ had all the skill. _I_ hadn’t prepared you enough.”

“Spare me, Makoto,” Haru huffs, and they both fall silent, staring out their respective windows with matching grim expressions. Rin yanks his legs back in the car and turns in the seat to face them both.

“Okay, _tell me._ What happened?” The featureless countryside rushes by and the silent treatment keeps-on, and Rin lets out a wolflike growl of frustration at the two _epic-fail_ communicators he’s stuck with.

“Look. How am I gonna get better at this sport unless you guys fucking talk to me! Help me out here.”

“I was training the team pretty much nonstop in the lead up to the competition,” Makoto says suddenly. “They’d be so tired at the end of the day they could hardly talk. But even then something in the back of my mind was telling me Haru wasn’t okay.” He turns to stab Haru with a meaningful look and Haru just blinks back. “His times weren’t up to par. And way more than that, he seemed … so sad. I tried to talk to him a few times about it and he’d find an excuse to get away. So I convinced myself he needed to deal with it alone.”

“I stopped swimming in the middle of my heat,” Haru interrupts. Rin stares at him but his eyes are down.

“What do you mean, stopped swimming.”

Makoto’s voice is gentle. “He couldn’t go on. He looked so small, standing there while the other guys kept racing.” Rin watches as his eyes meet Haru’s in the rearview. “I looked all over for you when you got out of the pool, Haru. You never told me where you went…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Haru says with finality. “Can’t change something that happened ten years ago.”

“But you can learn from it!” Rin is suddenly on fire, grabbing Makoto’s elbow in one hand, Haru’s knee in the other. “You weren’t ready, Haru. You couldn’t handle the pressure. You needed time to figure it all out.”

“ _You_ wouldn’t freeze like that,” Haru shoots back at him, and his tone is matter-of-fact. Makoto watches Rin carefully.

“You’d be surprised,” Rin says, letting his coach and teammate go and turning back to face front. The silence that stretches out this time is different, charged with the weight of their conversation that passed through the Mercedes like a sudden summer thunderstorm. Rin looks down at the little plastic pieces of his Kinder egg toy in his lap, and almost can’t believe it when he unfolds the instructions to find out what he’s going to be putting together.

Five minutes later, he’s hanging through the front seats and squeezing Haru’s knee again.

“…what.”

“Put out your hand,” he tells the beautiful man, and surprisingly Haru does. Rin drops the little plastic dolphin in his palm, blue and white and arcing happily like it’s jumping out of the water. Haru’s face softens as he holds it up in the air.

“Because even if you had a shitty first race, that doesn’t change the fact that no one swims like you. Ya damn dolphin.” Rin feels the flush in his cheeks but somehow is able to keep his eyes on Haru.

“Okay, _shark,_ ” he finally says back, through a crooked little smile. Rin wonders briefly if Haru’s making fun of him, and decides he likes the new nickname too much to care.

*

It’s midafternoon when Makoto puts his foot down and overrules them about stopping for lunch. Rin insists they’re fine with the snacks and should power through to get to the bed and breakfast, and Haru makes no smartass remarks (which for Haru is wild agreement).

“I won’t have anyone getting hangry in this car,” Makoto declares.

So they’re at a little roadside café someplace in the lush green mountains that have gradually overtaken their drive. Rin’s sure Makoto chose the place for its cutesy sign out front shaped like a fish, with _Frais_ across it in fancy script. When he has the immediate urge to protest, Haru’s face pops up in his mind, looking so lost like he’s ten years back, and he holds his tongue, knowing Makoto’s trying to cheer Haru up too.

Rin’s pleasantly surprised when they’re browsing their menus on the patio, seeing they _do_ have more than just fish. His mood lifts instantly and he holds his glass of water up at Makoto.

“Hey. Wasn’t that fun at the modern art exhibit Thursday?” he asks, laughter bubbling up through his words. Haru instantly sends him a look that could wither a plant.

“Oh, man,” Makoto grins back, shaking his head. “God. I can’t decide which was more insane, the pile of trash in the corner with the velvet rope around it, or the toilet filled with fortune cookies.”

“The toilet! Omigod!” Rin covers his face as he shakes with giggles, Makoto joining him. Haru is dangerously silent. “I mean, how pretentious and silly can you get??”

“It’s _art._ It isn’t supposed to make sense. You’re just supposed to experience it,” Haru says scathingly.

“Oh, we experienced it alright,” Rin grins, demanding a fistbump from Makoto.

“Sorry we almost got us kicked out,” Makoto tells Haru, but (refreshingly) he doesn’t sound particularly sorry. Haru switches his glare to Makoto but the big man just keeps laughing.

And then Rin hears English a few tables over, tuning in almost unconsciously as he always does when it’s a language he understands. He can’t help himself; it’s like part of him just needs to know what’s going on around him, for better or worse.

“…mmm. Oh, I’d _definitely_ hit that,” a middle-aged woman – a tourist, from England by the accent, is saying to the other women at her table … and they’re shamelessly looking over at Rin’s table. The speaker holds her wineglass contemplatively to her lips, tracing her gaze down and up their bodies, and Rin suddenly feels naked in his tanktop and jeans. Makoto and Haru have gone quiet to listen too, their eyes fixed on him. Makoto raises his eyebrows.

One of the other women picks up and Rin can almost taste the lazy lust soaking her words. “They’re all fuckable but that redhead is the one to take home, don’t you think? He’s just a baby. Practically needs a permission slip from his mummy,” she coos, and there’s an explosion of raucous laughter. “I’d make him go for _hours._ ”

“Oh, I’d bring the big one along too to swap out when the kid gets tired,” the first woman says authoritatively.

Makoto has his angry-dad look again – he understands them, they all speak English although Rin is the best at it. But there’s no question what’s being said even if all the women’s words aren’t immediately translatable. Rin turns to see how Haru’s taking it –

And finds an empty chair, and hears a polite, heavily-accented “Excuse me” in English a few tables over.

He snaps his glance up as Makoto spins in his chair, to see Haru, small and dignified, standing at the women’s table as they blink stupidly up at him. None of them answer but Haru doesn’t seem to mind.

“We were listening to you. I hope you don’t talk about the friends of your sons like that,” he says peacefully, but Rin thinks he hears danger buried in his voice. “Please stop until we leave.” Then he turns and comes gracefully back to them, the women staring blankly after him, and Rin loves him in that moment.

Makoto crinkles his eyes at Haru as he sits back down. “Thanks, Haru-chan,” he says softly. “Our hero.”

“…shut up,” Haru mutters.

*

The short drive to the small town on the coast where they’ll be staying flies by. Rin thinks part of that is being nicely full, Haru on (what else) a stew that looked like it had a fishy Noah’s Ark of every aquatic species in there, Makoto surprisingly on the same. Rin feels utterly content after his steak and fries ( _steak frites,_ he thinks, slipping gradually further into the spirit of the place).

The other part of the funny contentment in the car is the aftermath of Haru _totally_ standing up for him, and for Makoto, to those raunchy women. They don’t talk about it – although Rin makes a careful note to remember to call Haru “Our Hero” as often as he can get away with for the rest of the trip. But as the landscape gets steadily greener, more … curvaceous, closer to those pictures Makoto sent, Rin finds himself blushing even to think of Haru’s words. It probably is the wrong feeling, and he knows the women posed no threat. But it was so _good_ to be defended like that. There Haru went, “protecting” him as the youngest member of their group, and he somehow can’t find it in himself to be at all embarrassed.

“Look!” Makoto exclaims to them, pointing out the windshield at a slice of blue, so blue it’s unreal even against the perfect September sky.

“We made it!” Rin grins, hanging between the seats like that’ll help him see better. The view opens up soon, though, as he directs them onto a road that takes them east along the sea. It’s a ridiculously perfect picture, the sun burning white down on a sinuous series of those velvety hills, buildings painted in pastel pink and yellow and peach, all cradling the wide stretch of pure blue water. Rin squints, sees a few white sailboats out on the horizon.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Makoto asks happily.

“It reminds me of home,” Haru murmurs. Rin spins his window down, sticks himself out into the warm wind like a dog and drinks in the scene. The air is sweet with some flower he doesn’t recognize.

“It reminds me of heaven,” Rin says after pulling back in the car, and he’s happy not to hear any word of correction from the backseat.

The B&B is hard to find, even with the GPS – they make two wrong turns on the way and he can almost taste Haru’s black cloud of disapproval/challenge. But HE’s the navigator, dammit, and a final twisty road dead-ends at a pretty stucco house, poised on a terrace overlooking the sea down below. Makoto carefully pulls the car into the little lot and turns the key. They sit for a second, just listening to the sounds of waves down below and someone laughing up the street. Rin marvels at the view and turns to his friends.

“…do we _really_ have to go back on Wednesday?” he asks, and he means for it to come out lightly, as a joke. But against his wishes his voice is full to the edges with the plaintiveness he really feels. Their eyes are heavy on him all of a sudden, the green and the blue so uncannily similar, in their ability to see so much.

“It’s just … this is my first time out of Japan in my entire life. Come _on,_ ” he tries, and Makoto’s squinting in amusement and Haru looks thoughtful. “And look at how we’ve spent this trip so far! Sure, we got a little tourist stuff in last week in Paris, and that was awesome. But then me and Haru were busting our asses swimming. And Makoto was coaching.”

“What are you trying to say, Rin,” Makoto gently breaks in on his mini-rant from out of nowhere.

“We gotta make the most of it! We’re in the prime of our lives and we’ll only be young once!”

Haru snorts. “Yeah, but you’re gonna be stupidfor the rest of your life.”

Rin’s digging his fingers behind Haru’s kneecap before he knows what he’s doing, tickling with all his might. Haru flails away from him out of reach to safety, but not before letting out a burst of … _giggles._ Haru – _Haru? –_ giggles, and his cheeks have gone pink, and Rin thinks he’s gonna have to attack the intimidating dude as often as he can because it’s freaking _magic._ As ridiculous as that sounds.

Makoto’s breaking it up, though. “Okay, _children._ Let’s do that. Enjoy the few days we have here as much as we can.” He opens the door and eases himself out, groaning and stretching his back like he’s 100, before turning and leaning back in his open door. “And let’s get it started, shall we?”

Rin bounces immediately out, Haru sliding after and eyeing him warily like he’s expecting another sneak tickle attack at any moment. He wants to tell Haru not to bother, he wouldn’t do it so soon and wreck his element of surprise … but that would wreck the element of surprise too. So Rin just innocently holds the B&B door for his senpais, equally enjoying the thanks he gets from Makoto and the suspicious look from Haru.

They walk into a cozy foyer, crammed with knick-knacks and opening into a homey living room where the centerpiece is a picture window framing that same breathtaking view of the sea. They come to a stop, staring out again almost hypnotized.

There’s a warm laugh behind them, and they turn back to see an older woman in an apron, standing behind a little front desk and smiling at them. “Hello! Do you speak English?” she asks slowly.

As he has throughout their trip, Makoto takes the lead as their resident “dad,” and Rin tries not to mind. “Yes. We have a … reservation?” He stumbles slightly over the long word and Rin bites back a smirk.

“Ah, good! Are you the group in the studio apartment for the week?” she asks, pulling a thick-bound register-book to her, peering at it through a pair of reading glasses on a chain.

Makoto freezes as he tries to work out her answer and put together one of his own, and Rin’s diving into the silence thoughtlessly. “No, actually. We’re in one of the rooms…?” He shuts up, expecting Makoto to give him a light reprimand, but the look he sends over is grateful and nothing else. Rin’s warmed by a shot of sudden pride. _Another_ thing he can contribute to the group.

But the woman is looking up at them now, smile gone and replaced by a complicated expression somewhere between confusion and embarrassment.

“I’m … so sorry, gentlemen! To be honest, I didn’t know, uh, three _men_ would be staying in the room when I booked you there. There’s just the double bed, plus a rollaway for the extra charge, of course.” She fiddles for a second with the sign-in pen. “I can only allow one rollaway for safety reasons. I am so very sorry again.”

Rin smiles at her, grabbing Haru and Makoto around the necks in a spontaneous half-hug. “No problem! We get this kind of thing all the time, having, uh, feminine names. We’ll be happy to take the double and rollaway. Thank you.”

“Oh God. So who gets to cuddle with you?” Haru asks quietly in Japanese, amusement flickering around his features.

“Shut up, FishSticks,” Rin replies lightly, watching with satisfaction as Makoto steps up to run his credit card.

*

“…no, seriously. Who gets to cuddle with me?” Rin demands. They’ve been out, walking the picturesque little town, having a late dinner at a café down the road from their place, fresh fish and more steak and two carafes of good white wine. The fatigue leftover from the weekend’s competition and from being on the road hit them all at once – accelerated by the wine – and Makoto and Rin were somehow able to talk Haru into letting them shower first once they got back to their room before he had his ritualistic soak in the clawfoot tub.

Both men look at Rin in amusement – like he’s a puppy demanding attention – before turning to each other, Haru scrubbing his head dry with his towel. “Rock Paper Scissors?” Makoto suggests.

“Loser gets to sleep with CuddleMuffin here?” Haru agrees.

“Hey! I’m _right here,_ you know. I have _feelings,_ ” Rin protests, bouncing experimentally on the bed. There’s no question that’s where he’s gonna sleep, tonight _and_ tomorrow. He’s always slept better with someone, whether that was his mom putting him and Gou in the same bed as little kids, or passing out on the floor watching movies at sleepovers with Sousuke, or later when he was old enough to date and … just preferred to hold someone. Or just _be_ held. It’s pure comfort for him, something he knows probably isn’t “normal” for a man of 22 but that makes him so happy, he doesn’t care what anyone might think of it.

“Nope. _Winner_ gets the privilege,” Makoto corrects, holding his fist up. Haru rolls his eyes but smiles, holding his up too.

"Saisho wa guu –” they chant, pumping their fists three times, then – "Janken pon!" and Haru’s still holding his fist out as rock, while Makoto gently covers it with his open-palmed paper.

“I get Makoto!” Rin sing-songs, flopping spread-eagle on the bed. It feels heavenly. “Hey, Makoto. You won’t mind if I sleep like this, will you? I have to take up a ton of space. Hope that’s okay.”

Then he’s surprised into silence as Makoto climbs on, stretching out on his back with a long sigh and effortlessly pulling him into his side with one long arm. He peeks down at Rin and drops a subtle wink. “Well. I hope _you_ won’t mind if I sleep like this. I need a human teddy bear and I heard you kinda do too.”

“Whatever,” Rin huffs, but he’s smiling as he tucks his face into Makoto’s chest, soft in his orange sleepshirt. Across the curves of their coach’s body, Haru shakes with silent laughter as he eases onto the rollaway set up next to the bed.

“…good night,” Rin says softly, getting a murmured reply back from both men. Then it’s quiet in the dark room, the soft chuffing of the overhead fan a hypnotic rhythm that leads him into sleep.

*

The Mediterranean is like something out of a dream. The ferry churns steadily on to the island the desk-clerk told them about, and they’re full on the breakfast she made for them, croissants and almond brioche fresh from the oven, mango and melon, coffee so black it was totally opaque. And hearing they were swimmers, she told them they _had_ to spend the day at the beach on an offshore island, where the water was warm and calm and so clear they’d be able to see meters down.

“…and there’s a lovely view,” she added when she came back to refresh their coffee, sending them a mysterious look.

So they gaze around expectantly as they disembark, the island rising to wild green hills and a long strip of beach stretching away before them. Rin has his flip-flops off immediately, the sand hot between his toes. Haru and Makoto do the same.

Then they spot sunbathers lying in the sand, splashing each other playfully in the shallows, and –

“…aha. So _that’s_ what she meant by a lovely view,” Makoto says thoughtfully.

“Why was that nice older lady trying to get us to a nude beach?” Haru wonders. Rin just stares at the tanned pecs and abs and breasts and asses and _other_ things and –

“Going in,” Rin says suddenly, trying to fumble his t-shirt and baggy cargo shorts off simultaneously. He’s seized with a sudden panic – _should_ he take his jammers off too? When in Rome and all that?? They’re Japanese, they _invented_ nude bathing for crying out loud, this is totally not a big deal –

“Hey, not before I do!” Haru’s busting into his moment of indecision, disrobing with typical Haru ease and – there it is – shedding his jammers, too. Rin quickly averts his eyes from the perfect sight of Haru, naked, hurling himself at a run into the crystal water with goggles in his hand, diving as soon as it’s deep enough that he won’t break his insane neck. Then he’s just a torpedo-like shape heading deeper.

Rin turns back to find Makoto smiling, t-shirt off but legskins still on, gathering up Haru’s abandoned clothes and bag and dumping everything in the shade of an overhanging tree. “You know, Rin, it’s really okay if you keep your suit on. It’s nudity _optional,_ not _required._ I’m not taking mine off.”

“No, no, I’m totally cool with … being … nakedness. It was just sorta sudden, that’s all,” he answers quickly, and he puts his own goggles on before taking a breath and skimming his jammers down, kicking them aside. He senses Makoto politely looking away, but doesn’t stick around to hear what he may have to say, turning and running after Haru into the water and throwing himself into a front crawl.

It’s … bliss. If the smell of the air and the sight of the water of this place are heaven, actually being in it, the warm water so gentle and smooth and _kind_ somehow across his body with nothing to stop it, is like nothing he’s ever experienced. The seafloor falls off in darkening shades of turquoise below him, then it’s just the feel of the water on his skin and the familiar comfort of his muscles working together to pull him out to Haru.

It isn’t long before Makoto catches up, treading water as he beams at them. Rin’s amazed that Haru quits his usual endless laps to tread with them, face perfectly relaxed. _And happy,_ Rin thinks. This is probably Haru at his absolute happiest. His chest fills with an odd pride to be a part of it.

“…remind me again why we don’t live here?” Rin demands. He gets a faceful of water as Makoto heaves a tidal-wave splash at him, earning Makoto a mega-splash back, and a sudden game of water tag ensues where Makoto is a totally terrifying “It” and Rin spends most the game trying to hide behind Haru.

They spend a day of pure laziness, horsing around and doing easy laps in the water, eventually stumbling out (Rin deeply grateful when Haru wraps a towel around his waist too) to eat the sandwiches they brought. The sound of a girl shrieking in delight wakes Rin from a post-lunch nap, and he rolls onto his side to see a bronzed teenager falling off her boyfriend’s shoulders into the water. Haru groans softly at his side as he wakes up too. Makoto is sitting on Haru’s other side, sipping a can of Orangina and gazing out over the water, the sun approaching the horizon over the distant town.

“I need to race you both before we go back,” Rin says suddenly, and two faces turn to him, Haru surprised and Makoto worried. “It’s just something I have to do. Don’t try to say no.”

True to everything Rin has learned about him since joining the club, Makoto does exactly that. “Rin, there’s no need to do that. You got bronze in the ‘fly; people are gonna remember you next time you get on the block.”

“I told you, we’re doing it,” he insists, seized with a sudden urge he doesn’t even understand and scrambling up. The towel around his waist falls to the ground but somehow he doesn’t care, striding across the sand and into the water. He hears soft murmuring behind him and honestly isn’t sure if they’re going to join him or just leave him to swim a last lap alone. But he finally turns about 50 meters out, treading, to find them both slowly swimming out to him.

“How do you want to do this?” Haru asks him quietly, and he wonders at Haru’s sudden … _cooperation._ But he’s grateful to them both.

“Simple. On my signal we do whatever stroke we want into the shore. First one standing wins.”

“Then as the tallest guy I’ve got this in the bag,” Makoto says through a sly smile, but Rin’s already tilting himself down into the water. His friends slowly follow.

“Three … two … one … GO!” Rin yells, launching himself forward freestyle, catching a flash of Haru and Makoto doing the same. Then he opens up all his throttles, turning to breathe just once on his right to the sight of Makoto’s powerful arm scooping under his body, breathing once on his left to Haru’s almost lazy-looking flutter kick, swirling with bubbles. The seafloor rockets at him with scary speed and he _did_ it, he’s dropping his legs to stand –

And Haru’s already there, standing in the water breathing softly, flicking a concerned look up at Makoto panting beside him.

Rin lets the water hold him up – pressing cool against him compared to the almost-nuclear heat of his post-sprint skin – struggling to get his own breath back.

“…so you both beat me … huh,” he finally says when he thinks he’s able to get words out. Haru’s floating instantly over to him, laying a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Rin. My time’s over. Yours is just getting started,” he says quietly, and Rin can’t meet his eyes, can’t even open his own against what feels like the threat of tears. Which he won’t let out, he won’t, he _won’t._ Surprisingly, he hears nothing from Makoto, the man always ready with a pep talk. But a big hand comes down on his other shoulder, just a squeeze, there and gone.

“Let’s go home, what do you say?” Makoto finally says.

*

They dress quietly, and don’t talk on the ferry-ride back, the older men seeming to sense and respect his solemn mood. Rather than another restaurant dinner, they just stop at a little store on the walk back, buying bread and cheese and cold meat and olives, bottles of water, and sit on the B&B’s patio overlooking the town to eat. The moon rises over the water, huge and eerie in its beauty.

“Did you have a good time…?” the desk-clerk asks as she comes out to check on them, her apron sprinkled with flour from whatever treat she’s working on. Rin can’t answer her.

He’s surprised when Haru takes it this time. “Yes, thank you,” he tells her with a little smile. “It’s a very special place. And the view _is_ lovely.”

She gives Haru a companionable smack on the shoulder, saying “…you _boys,_ ” and Makoto gives her one of his trademark smiles, and she bustles back inside. Haru and Makoto trade a look – there and gone – before turning back to finish their food.

Makoto insists that Rin use the shower first, and the heat of the sun and the heat of the water pulsing the salt away from his skin and the emotional highs and abrupt lows of the day almost have him falling asleep under the spray. He stumbles out to trade with Makoto, finding Haru sitting on the bed where their coach slept the night before.

“…you guys already do Rock Paper Scissors while I was in there?” Rin asks, trying to joke and sounding … too loud. Too needy. He comes around the bed and sits on the other side, facing away from Haru.

“Nope. Didn’t need to,” Haru’s calm voice pipes up behind him, and Rin opens his mouth to make a snide remark, but he’s too slow. “I told Makoto I needed a turn with you.”

Rin’s spinning around then, mouth still hanging open for a very different reason now. Haru blinks at him, but he’s smiling, and Rin’s suddenly grinning back.

“Perv. I’m gonna spread it around that the great Olympic gold medalist Nanase Haruka likes snuggling younger teammates on away competitions.”

“Pot calling the kettle,” Haru replies, totally nonchalant, and he’s launching himself at Haru, going for his armpits where he’s _sure_ Haru’s gonna just fall apart under his tickle onslaught. But he’s surprised when he lands on an empty bed.

“…thanks, Makoto,” Haru’s saying airily, slipping easily past the big man as he comes out of the bathroom and shutting the door. The tub roars on.

“How have you put up with him all these years? How??” Rin demands, clutching the air like he’s auditioning for a role on a bad soap opera. Makoto just flops onto the rollaway and sighs. Fondly.

“Haru’s Haru,” he says finally, stretching out with his ankles crossed and covering his face with his arms. His tenor voice is muffled as he goes on. “Just like Rin’s Rin. There’s no one like you two in the world. And I wouldn’t change either of you for anything.”

Rin blinks over at his coach but his barrel chest starts the deep rise and fall that says he’s fallen asleep, and he says nothing more. Rin sighs, easing down into bed on his side and hugging his pillow tightly. The lilies in the bedside vase blur as he fights to keep his eyes open – _Haru, stay awake until Haru’s done with his bath_ – then all is black as he loses the battle and closes them.

*

He wakes up needing to pee, fluttering his eyes open to early-morning light in the room. He’s still on his side, still clutching the damn pillow where he was when he passed out last night before even getting to enjoy sharing the bed with Haru, and is swept with a fresh wave of frustration at his missed opportunity. Then –

Warm, he’s so warm all along his back where Haru’s spooning him, along his waist where Haru’s tossed his arm casually, protectively, where their legs twine in a confused jumble together. Where Haru noses into the back of his neck, Rin’s hot, Haru’s soft, steady breaths fanning across his skin.

Rin freezes.

Then he can’t deny the urgency of his need to use the bathroom for a moment more, easing carefully out from under Haru’s arm and sliding the pillow there instead. He almost can’t believe it when Haru buys it, his lean arm closing around the pillow and face completely unchanged.

Rin tiptoes somewhat painfully past where Makoto’s sprawled on the rollaway, arms hanging off the sides and snoring softly, and silently closes the bathroom door. He bites his bottom lip so he won’t groan in relief when he finally is able to go.

Finished, he sneaks back out and skirts the bed, about to get back in on his side. Then he sees what’s on the bedside table under the vase of white lilies.

It’s a drawing of Rin, on a piece of Haru’s sketchbook paper with the telltale fluttery edge and squared-off holes. He’s standing on an award podium in the middle spot, bending to accept the gold as the bronze- and silver-medalists beside him beam, and …

He’s beautiful. He’s grinning and his eyes are somehow wet with tears, how the _hell_ did Haru do that with graphite and cheap sketchbook paper, his cheeks are shaded with joy and his wet hair falls around his face as a woman slides the medal around his neck, and Haru has made him _beautiful._

Rin stares down at the drawing, the ceiling fan whispering overhead, the breaths and snores of his friends somehow peaceful in the room. He traces his eyes over Haru’s lines until he has them memorized.

Then he changes course, coming around to Haru’s side of the bed and gently climbing on. He pushes forward until he’s comfortably on his side, folded around Haru as the big spoon as Haru spoons his pillow. He tucks his face into Haru’s smooth hair and closes his eyes.

“…Rin?” Haru whispers, almost immediately. Rin curses his inability to be careful, quiet.

“Yeah?” he whispers back.

“Did you find the sketch?”

Rin lifts up his head, just enough to take in the curve of Haru’s cheek turned away from him into his pillow, his eyes closed. “…yeah.”

There’s suddenly the gentle pressure of fingers on his own as Haru folds a hand over his. Rin can’t breathe.

“Good. ‘Cause if you picture something, it’s so much easier to make it come true.” He pulls Rin’s arm a little closer around himself, like it’s a blanket he’s snuggling under. “Even though I don’t think you’re gonna need _me_ to help you with that.”

“Shut up,” he mutters, as Haru answers with an almost-silent little chuckle. Rin tightens his arm. “Go back to sleep.”

And the funny thing is, he thinks that’s exactly what Haru does. Even as he lies awake for some untold time after that, just feeling the _realness_ of the slender body in his arms.

*

“Thank you for your business, boys,” the desk clerk – who they’ve learned is also the proprietor and owner and a tai chi enthusiast, on top of being a master baker – tells them the next morning after breakfast. They’re standing in the little parking lot, where she followed them out for one last goodbye despite Makoto’s protests that they’re taking her from her work.

“Thank _you_ for running such a wonderful place. We wish we could live here,” Rin tells her fervently, spontaneously grabbing her hand and squeezing. Her blue eyes crinkle as she smiles back at him.

“Something tells me, friends like you three, you’ll be happy wherever you go,” she says. “Have a safe journey back to Japan!”

“Merci!” Makoto tells her in awkward but adorable French, and she pats his shoulder before turning and walking back inside. They watch her go, wistfully, until the door closes behind her. Then Makoto loads their bags into the trunk again and they slide into the Mercedes, Haru taking the backseat without comment.

Rin guides them back, up the twisty dead-end road, through the complicated series of turns until they’re back to the main sea highway. The car is quiet, even with all the windows down to let in the fresh morning air. Rin’s so deep in his trip-end melancholy he doesn’t even notice Makoto’s turned east (instead of west) until they’re already speeding the wrong way down the road, the sun bright across the windshield.

He flicks his head over to find a suspiciously _serene_ expression on their driver’s face.

“Makoto. Hey. I know you said you have a crappy sense of direction, but do you know we’re headed the wrong way?”

“No we aren’t.” Makoto’s added a little smile to his peaceful look now. Rin turns in his seat, alarmed that his usual order of operations (go to Makoto when Haru’s malfunctioning) is apparently reversed this morning, which can’t be good. But he finds the same serenity on Haru’s pretty face, edged with the slightest … smugness.

“FishSticks.”

“SharkBoy,” Haru replies innocently.

“ _Our Hero,_ ” Rin amends. “Seriously. What the hell is going on?”

“We cancelled our tickets,” Makoto replies, and now Haru’s full-out smiling, and Rin flips an incredulous look between the two asshole practical jokers. “I’ll eat the change fees, but that’s okay. We aren’t done with this trip. You said it yourself.”

“ _What._ Where are we even going??” Rin exclaims, the certainty that his senpais are screwing with him bleeding away, slowly replaced by … a bubbly feeling. Like he has carbonated water in his veins, or something, and he could practically get out and push the car to … wherever it is that they’re headed.

“Wherever you want, Rin,” Haru says. Then he pauses, fixing Rin with a challenging look. “If you want to, that is…?”

Rin _pfft_ s and lays one hand on Haru’s knee, the other on Makoto’s. “As if you had to ask.”

***

So in order to celebrate the lovely and ungodly-talented [Daxii’s](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Daxii/pseuds/Daxii) birthday, I (mis)appropriated her age-gap universe for my own purposes. Please, go read her [The Sincerest Form of Flattery](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3876991/chapters/8665807) if you haven’t, which is one of the sweetest RinHarus I’ve ever read (with a … deliciously-ambiguous OlderCoach!Makoto lol). This story takes a different path, where we have Rin launching his career as Haru retires and an open-ended, mainly platonic feeling between the OT3. But I’ll leave the interpretation of that up to you ;)

I stole from life for basically this whole thing – anything that happens in this story happened to me or someone I love, so I’m doing autobiographical FreeFic at this point. The day I wrote the bit about Rin giving Haru the little dolphin toy, my sister then gave me a little fish toy she got from a vending machine egg, and at that point I decided the universe is too weird. (Apologies to the best movie _Stand by Me_ for stealing the line about [being young once and stupid your whole life](http://www.quotes.net/mquote/90302). SEE IT IF YOU HAVEN’T!)

Also, and I swear I’m shutting up: that B&B? With the island nude beach? [It’s a real place.](http://www.lavandoulodge.com/) God only knows why we all aren’t there now ;D


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